Come Undone
by NuttyRoyale
Summary: I feel completely detached. Like I'm not even living anymore. Emma reflects on her actions. [post Secret.]


**Author's Notes:** can someone please help me stop writing in first person present tense? It's a disease, I tell you.

This takes place post-"Secret". Meaning: if you haven't seen that episode yet, please step away from this story. The management thanks you. If you _have_ seen it, you are free to proceed. I recommend that you play Duran Duran's "Come Undone" while reading.

As always: _Degrassi_ and the characters of are not mine. If they were, well... don't get me started.

-----------------

I'm silent on the way to the clinic. Dad and I are both silent, actually. The radio is tuned to one of the local stations that have taken to playing songs from every different era and genre. I stare straight ahead and listen to the opening chords of that "Bittersweet Symphony" song; the one they play at the end of _Cruel Intentions_.

_Cruel Intentions_ reminds me of a sleepover Manny and I had the summer before Jack was born. I'd managed to get a free weekend away from home, and we had found ourselves in the Blockbuster that was two blocks away from her house. We grabbed _Cruel Intentions_ first, then grabbed two cheesy 80s teen movies to conceal the other one. We waited until Manny's parents were asleep to watch it, as they might have pitched a fit to end all fits if they'd found out what we were watching. Looking back, I'm almost amused by the prospect, considering how we've both turned out in the year and a half since. Manny with her abortion, and me possibly with an STD.

In one sense, I feel completely detached. Like I'm not even living anymore, I'm some kind of shell-shocked spectator watching someone who looks like me doing things and living my life. Ever since... ever since the shooting, I feel like I have these out-of-body experiences sometimes. Like my first audition for _Dracula_. I felt like I was just _watching_ myself mess up those lines, though I was inwardly groaning and wondering why the hell I couldn't just remember. It's also happened other times, like when I blurt out things I don't mean or when I do something I _wouldn't_ have done two or three months ago, or ever, really. That night in the van? Yeah, I was having one of those out-of-body moments.

I think part of me knows why I did it. I was just _tired_. I still am. Tired of being expected to just hold things together. I've been doing that since last year. I'm tired of being dependable. I'm tired of being the good girl. I'm _tired_ of Doing the Right Thing. And after years of doing that, I've just stopped trying lately. I've been slipping. But, well... I _wanted_ to. I was curious, and it's physically impossible to get pregnant by going down on someone. But the whole time, something inside of me was objecting. When the door slammed, I thought, _you know, you don't have to do this._ When Jay pulled his pants and boxers down in one motion, I felt completely disgusted for a moment. _Why the hell am I staring at Jay Hogart's cock?_ When he gave me this _look_ I can't properly describe, one that told me to kneel, I wondered what Sean would think. _Sean's not here. Sean left you. Sean doesn't matter anymore, remember?_ I flinched and slowly opened my mouth, cringing as I brought my lips over his penis. And later, when I couldn't stop spitting because I couldn't get _that taste_ out of my mouth, I felt exhilarated and embarrassed at the same time. _What did I just do?_

I should've thought twice about it. _Should've, could've, would've._

So now the car's stopped, and I'm still sitting in the passenger seat. Dad has turned the car off. I think this is a sign that I'm supposed to get out or something. That's real subtle of you, Archie Simpson. I don't move, mostly because I'm scared and because I'm waiting for him to say something, _anything_ to me, though I doubt he will. When he's disappointed in me, he becomes completely quiet. I don't blame him for being disappointed in me. But such is life. I would've found some other way to warp his perception of me sooner or later.

I'm still hoping, though. I turn to face him and try to make eye contact. "Dad, I..."

He doesn't look at me. He just stares at the cars and the buildings surrounding us and says, "Em. You'd better go in. You're already five minutes late for your appointment."

I blink over and over, trying to prevent myself from crying again. Instead, I sniffle and bite my lip. _I'm sorry,_ I want to say. The words don't make it out. Instead, I nod solemnly and open the door and get out, walking towards uncertainty that I never thought I'd have to face.


End file.
